Bubbles
by Inu-midoriko
Summary: Muddy and irritated, all Commander Taylor wanted was a working shower. Having to turn to his lieutenant, a shower isn't all she has on her mind. Poor Taylor... BAMF! Collab between skykissedwindknight and Inu-midoriko! Double check the rating, kids!
1. Chapter 1

**Inumidoriko: Hello BAMF readers! Skykissedwindknight and I have decided to join forces and collaborate to bring you the ultimate crack smut three-shot! **

It was a trivial thing really, combat training in the rain and getting muddied. In fact, it didn't even bother Commander Nathaniel Taylor that his face was smeared, his hair was covered and the color of his shirt and pants were no longer recognizable. It didn't even bother him that the mud got into his boots and squished between his toes.

What did bother him was- because of the storm- the pipelines that connected directly to his home had shifted and rubbed against another. The heavy pressure of the mud had seen to it that the two copper pipes grinded enough that a crack, big enough for mud to slip through, formed. At least that's the conclusion Taylor came up with when he turned on his faucet and the only thing to come out was mud.

Jesus Christ, all he wanted was to get clean.

Taking a deep breath, he considered going to Guzman's but thought better of it when he remembered the man was on patrol. He'd be damned before he went into the man's home, without him there, to shower. It would start rumors that he didn't have the stomach to think about.

His mind strayed to the Shannon's. Rolling it in his mind a moment, he considered. They would undoubtedly welcome him…but they were a family of five, which was already stretching the hot shower limit.

He had no choice but to consider his second in command. He knew she wouldn't have a problem with it, especially since it was partly her fault that he got so muddy.

He grinned at the memory.

_Commander Taylor ran through shoot wrestling drills with his men and taught them how to get their opponent down and make them tap out in submission for training purposes only. He emphasized that in a real situation, they couldn't hesitate breaking their opponent's limbs or it would be their own on the line. _

_He knew since he was the instructor, he shouldn't be joining in, but he couldn't help himself. It was his favorite drill to go over. He took down three men one after the other. Each of them put up a decent fight but in the end, he had brought them to the ground and, within seconds, had each of them tapping. _

_He knew that if they were to fight anyone else but him they would have an easier time but this was the point of the drills. They had to fight for dominance, wrestle and fight for the submission hold. It would one day mean that they would have to fight for their lives. Hell, it would one day __**save**__ their lives._

"_Next!" he said, after tapping out another man. No one rose to the challenge. "Come on, ladies, let's go! Who's next?" His second in command went from facing the line of men, to her Commander. He raised an eyebrow at her for a moment. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the grin from his mouth. "Come on then, Wash. Show these guys how it's done." _

_She lunged for him and took hold of his biceps. He did the same and pulled her to the side to get her down. She anticipated it and went with the motion. Alicia made a wide step to balance herself but Taylor wasn't going to give her time to form an idea. He pulled her in the other direction, making her step wide- once again- to gain her footing. _

_Pulling her towards him to take her feet from under her was easy since she was so much lighter than the male body mass he was used to. What he didn't expect, was her to use his weight against him. She came in fast; attacking his feet with her own to make him stumble. When he stepped; she swiped his foot before it landed, executing the trip beautifully. _

_He went tumbling down and she used that opportunity pull him into the motion. With him grounded on his knees and her still on her feet, she was at a disadvantage. Alicia soon found herself flat on her back with the Commander moving in for a choke hold. She slipped her arm through his, so his grip wouldn't be as effective. She managed to get both legs hooked around his waist, a position of advantage for her. He tried prying off one of her legs but she had the hold on strong. Wash cross gripped the back of his shirt and pulled so her elbows aligned with each other; effectively executing a cross choke. _

_A normal man would have tapped. Hell, a normal man would have tried prying off her hands; Nathaniel Taylor was not a normal man. Instead, he rolled, flipping their positions. A small frown marred Alicia's features because this was the worst position he could possibly be in right now. _

_In this spot, despite the fact he couldn't breathe- and in about three more seconds he was going to pass out- he smirked at her. She was close enough to him that he was able to reach up and gripped her ponytail. He was relentless as he pulled. _

"_Argh!" her grip relented slightly, allowing air to rush into his lungs. He coughed a few times but couldn't stop to allow himself the luxury of oxygen once again filling his body. Not when Wash was proving to be a difficult opponent. One thing was for sure, she had definitely improved since they last faced one another in the shoot wrestling match. Using this opportunity, he pried her pinky finger from its grip on his shirt and bent it back; releasing the choke hold she had on him. With her hair and pinky under his mercy, there was very little she was able to do. _

_At least he thought so. _

_She took him by surprise and used her other hand to slap his off her pinky. He pulled her head back further and enjoyed arched look it gave her for a mere moment. Flipping their positions once more, he was still locked in her leg grip. With a muddy hand, Wash pushed his face up. With this action; his hold loosened on her hair and she was able to pull herself up. She wrapped her arm around the back of his neck and pulled his head against her ribs, just under her underarm. _

_Using this opportunity to hook a hand through her legs, he was able to pry a limb off him. She let go of her hold on his head and moved quickly. Grabbing his wrist with both hands, she was able to hook her legs around his arm. He landed on his back and cringed when he felt Wash apply the arm bar. _

_There was no way he was tapping out to her. Not a chance. With a force that took Alicia by surprise, he curled his arm, countering the lock she had on it. Bringing himself onto his knees, he jerked his arm from her, enjoying the thud and splash of mud when she landed on her back from letting go of him. _

_He lunged for her and she rolled, making him land with his own thud, on his stomach. Moving quickly, he grabbed her ankle and pulled her to him. He climbed on top of her; overpowering her attempts at freeing herself and took her arm by force. He used the same position she had him in just now, and leaned back. She tried every tactic she knew of but in this position, he was too strong. _

_The pain in her arm became too unbearable any longer and in moments she was tapping the leg closest to her free hand. Instantly, he let her go and they lay there in the mud for a good moment to catch their breath. _

_He was the first to stand. Looking down at her still laying there, breathing heavily, he grinned at her. Mischief glinted in his eyes. He held out a hand to her and when she took it, he hauled her to her feet. "Good job, Wash." he turned to the men he was training. "That gentlemen, is the kind of fight you want to put up. You can't do at least that, you might as well ask to die." he turned to his lieutenant and winked at her. She grinned back at him and hooked her thumbs into her belt loops. _

_The men started fighting harder. _

Standing outside Wash's door, with a bag full of extra clothes was a normal thing to do, he told himself. He'd done it plenty of times in the past. He would knock, she would take a few moments to answer the door and he would be invited in. The only problem was he had yet to knock.

"Knock, damn it," he hissed to himself and waited a few beats. This was ridiculous; there was nothing nerve-wracking about _knocking on the door _of his lieutenant's home. Squaring his shoulders, he swallowed his pride and rapped on the hard wood.

It took Wash three beats to answer. When she did, they both stared at each other blankly, each of them examining their clothes, adopting similar surprised expressions on their faces.

"Why are you still muddy?" they asked in unison. Grinning at one another, Wash opened the door more fully to allow her CO inside.

Stepping over the threshold, he removed his boots and looked at the counter of her kitchen, his grin widening. "Having a few before a shower, Wash? Don't people usually wait until after they're clean to indulge?"

That earned him a raised eyebrow as she held up his favorite amber colored liquor. Captain Morgan, year 2015. Wash knew how to host, he would give her that. Seeing his look of surrender to the hard drink, she grinned and set down a glass for him and filled it to the top.

"Whoa there, Wash. You tryin' to kill me?" he said and whistled. Clearly, she'd already had a couple. The mud on both their clothes was drying, leaving clumps and chips of it on the floor every time they moved.

"Big strong man like you can handle it." she said with full confidence in a voice so very unlieutenant-like. He narrowed his eyes at her; took the glass and indulged her. Taking three large gulps, he emptied it and set it down. His look was stoic as he stared into her eyes, seeing if she was going to challenge him again.

She did.

"You going to join in? Or are you going to let me do this solo?" Alicia poured her own glass of Wisers, year 2025. Raising their respective glasses in silent cheers, they downed their drinks before slamming them down on the counter.

"Okay, that's enough for me," said Wash and rinsed her glass in the sink. The water was clear here, which meant they were both in the clear for showering.

Taylor hummed in mockery, his gaze filled with amusement and filled his glass once more. God, the woman was such a bad influence on his drinking habits. He chugged his last one and put his glass in the sink as well.

He could feel his cheeks heat from the alcohol and blew out a breath.

"I never did ask you. Why are you here?" asked Wash, leaning against her counter. She was relaxed, comfortable. The alcohol was clearly starting to have an effect on her. He could tell by her relaxed stance and the glaze over her eyes. It wasn't enough to put her on her ass though. That was one thing he knew she prided herself on. She could drink almost any man under the table. Save for him, of course.

"The only thing that comes out of my faucet right now is muddy water. I think my pipeline cracked. I'll need to get Benjamin Hobbs on it first thing tomorrow morning. Would you mind if I got cleaned up here?" he asked.

"Of course not," she replied. "I'll run the water for you-"

"Ladies first," he insisted, making her pause. "It's your home, Wash. You take the first shower. I'll occupy myself out here."

"Alright," she said after a beat, and disappeared into her bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Sky: Picking up right where Inu left off, it's bathtime folks. Getting it all out in the open, this shizz was going to be your sexy smutt fest. But uh…obviously you want…character development and…and tension and stuff first, right? RIGHT? Those are the reasons. _Not_ because I'm rubbish with smutt. That is totally not the reason. Obviously.

Plus. It'd be gross to get it on in muddy water. I don't care how damn hot they both are. It'd be gross. xD

Left to his own devices, Taylor leaned against the counter, listening to the sounds of Wash rummaging around. A noise dangerously akin to a chuckle reached his ears, something that would have him instantly suspicious in any other situation. However, with dirt caked in every available crevice of his clothing, and covering the majority of his skin, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Besides, she'd bribed him with good liquor. For that, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Glancing around him, he couldn't help but shake his head. Wash kept her house with an undeniably militaristic order. The few nick-knacks that dotted her counters were tucked away on small shelves, banishing the possibility of clutter. A collection of shot glasses on the center island; she'd been amassing them for as long as he could remember. He picked one up, smiling in memory. He'd bought it for her, not long before their tragic stint in Somalia; it remained at the forefront of her set.

The smell of Wash's various flowery scented shampoos' wafted from the bathroom. A moment later, the sound of running water no longer filled her home. He grabbed his bag from the counter, eager to be clean, waiting less than patiently for her call.

His lieutenant's voice reached his ears, "Ready for you, sir."

If he weren't so pleasantly buzzed he might have caught the trace of amusement lacing her tone.

When she'd said she'd run the water for him, he'd been a bit confused. Every home in Terra Nova ran the same sort of shower. He knew how to work one and she wasn't the overly doting sort, making the comment rather redundant. As a rule, Wash did not waste words. Walking into the bathroom, he came to the conclusion there had been no mistake in her phrasing.

She had indeed run the water for him.

She also occupied the tub.

After so many years in the military, after Somalia, and being thrown alone into an alternate timeline featuring goddamn _dinosaurs_ and political intrigue, and a jungle full of crap that wanted nothing more than to kill him, not much fazed Taylor. However, the sight of his second smirking at him, covered in intriguingly, and from the looks of things, _selectively_, placed reddish orange bubbles, was perhaps one of the few things that could cause him to pause.

Their eyes met. Despite her nudity (a part of him, though he's loathe to admit it, became rather irritated that she'd chosen a bubble bath. It left her frustratingly well covered), she remained collected. Between the two of them, she proved the least flustered.

Ever the gentleman, he turned, quickly averting his eyes. It earned him a warm chuckle. He wasn't a voyeur and Wash would only allow him to catch her in such a vulnerable position if she wanted him to. That thought alone managed to send a thrill through him.

Damn alcohol; never should have let her talk him into it.

The woman in question was leaning casually against the rim of her tub, watching him beneath half lidded eyes. It was an odd look for her, lacking the confidence she usually employed. Stripped of her protective layers of clothing, her weapons, and her rank, she was left as little more than a woman, baring herself to a man who'd shown very little interest in such matters in the past. She'd evidently decided it was do or die, subtly steeling her nerves.

She tossed her head, her dark hair falling around her shoulders, the ends floating in the water, "Are you just going to stand there, getting mud on my floor?" The note of teasing in her voice was undeniable, and she shifted a bit, bringing her knees up to her chest, presumably to make room. "Come on."

Taylor was quite secure in his masculinity. Even he, however, could not justify being caught within three leagues of such a…feminine luxury, even if that luxury happened to contain a beautiful woman. The smell of tropical fruits and summer flowers simply pervaded the room and the thought of such a thing wafting about his person was…

Demeaning.

He chuckled, "I'm afraid I'm not a…bubble bath sort of man, lieutenant."

"Can't knock it till you've tried it, sir."

He watched the subtle shift in her bearing. Wash became particularly tactile when she drank. Where her reservations, her stoic nature, were carefully schooled, her passion was not. On the one hand, it made for a fascinating change in her demeanor, the former stripped away while the latter was amplified. It rendered her conversation more open, her emotions more vivid, and her thoughts more assessable.

On the other, it could also make her an ornery pain in the ass when she set her mind to it. Evidently, she'd set her mind to getting him in her tub.

Sadly, he couldn't say it was the strangest idea he'd ever heard.

"And what'll we do, Wash? You gonna make me up all pretty, do my hair?"

She shrugged, smirking, "I don't know; a bow or two and you'd be quite a looker, sir."

"Not even for you, Wash."

She took a deep breath, "You want to get clean, sir. This is a way for both of us to do it at once."

"And I come out smelling like a fruitcake."

From the grin twisting her lips he assumed she did not find the image half so mortifying, "Alright; a bet then." She held up her hand, motioning he should permit her finish before he protest. "I'm willing to wager you'd enjoy," she made an absent gesture at the bubbly confection, "this."

"And when you lose?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

He shook his head, unable and unwilling to stop his amused chuckle, "Always were one for dangerous bets, weren't you, Wash?"

"Only when I can win them, sir." She extended her hand to him. If he were not so very eager to be clean, he might have considered the deal better. It was to loosely structured, really, and should have had at least a few conditions. Those things did not occur to him in the moment, so instead he simply shook her hand, already confident in his victory.

Somehow he always ended up underestimating her when they drank. Somehow she _always_ managed to make him pay for it.

Faster than he could process, Wash gave a hard yank, throwing the entirety of her weight down and back before he could brace himself. His knees impacted the side of the tub, further throwing him off balance, sending him face first into the water.

Admittedly, it could have been far more painful. Had Wash been absent, his face might have collided with the porcelain. Instead, he had the unexpected pleasure of an intimate introduction to his lieutenant's cleavage, though she gave a quick shove to correct the situation.

While the notion of Wash, naked and wet, pressed against him was not an unpleasant sensation, ending up fully clothed in the bath _was_. The water around them turned an unsavory shade of grey-brown as every bit of dried dirt clinging to the fabric transitioned back to mud, and the sudden entrance of second body dispersed a decent portion of the liquid, sending suds everywhere. And though whatever the hell she'd put in the water smelt delicious it certainly didn't _taste_ that way. He got a mouthful in an attempt to scold his snickering second. His elbow connected with something unyielding behind him, from the sound of her grunt, Wash's abdomen. It was not a gentle strike and by all rights should have her doubled over, gasping for breath. If anything it only made her more ornery.

If she'd been slippery earlier during their sparring she was damn near impossible now. Every time he managed to get a hold of her she simply twisted, her skin slick, sliding out of his grasp. It offered her an unfair advantage. His clothes offered her purchase in their little aquatic bout, where he could find none. Her hands fisted in the lapels of his jacket, leaving bits of mud dripping down her arms.

He gave a hard shove, sending her splashing back, managing to catch her hands before they found purchase again. It left them grappling rather awkwardly with each other, in mimicry of their earlier bout. Wash's nails dug at the skin of his hands even as she tried to put distance between their bodies. It was not unlike some odd dance, she shoved even as she leaned forward, attempting (she succeeded on the third try) to capture his lips.

With her near constant movement, he was left very little choice. In the end, his tactics were less than honorable. He managed to fist a hand in her dark hair, giving a hard enough yank to still her long enough to leverage his superior weight against her.

It left him staring her straight in the eyes, glacial blue meeting her handsome amber ones. The light there was one he had caught flickering across her gaze every now and then across the years, a mixture of unspoken challenge and arousal.

Her lips parted, her breathing heavy, she didn't shy away from his gaze. Every exhalation brought their bodies back into contact, the water rising and falling with them. Even pinned beneath him, she remained defiant, her dark eyes daring him to take that final step.

If he were a better commander, he'd never have come to her house to begin with. If he were a better _man_, he'd excuse himself. He'd redress as best as he was able, leave and face her in the morning, when they were both indisputably sober.

Hell, he'd deal with the repercussions.

With a growl, he crashed into her, reveling in her surprised gasp. He took some satisfaction in the sound of her head hitting the tub. He took far more in the fact that she refused to pull away despite the dull ache likely coursing through her skull. Perhaps in some show of revenge, she bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. Mixed with the soap and mud, it left them with kisses tinged with iron and sweat.

"This isn't helping, Wash," he growled, spitting the unpleasant mixture. Through luck or pity he managed to wrestle her beneath him, using his superior weight to hold her still. She squirmed in a positively distracting manner before stopping, his warning squeeze not going unnoticed. The woman's face was splattered with dirt, her hair plastered to her head. If anything, she looked nothing less than amused, his irritation spurring her on, despite her position.

"Then hold still."

"You pulled me in, damn it."

She appeared woefully unapologetic, the same defiant light that always seemed to flare to life during their bouts playing havoc with her eyes. The omnipresent desire to fight had not been extinguished, merely tempered by his physical positioning. It wasn't anything new for them. In their sparring sessions it often came down to this, one of them straddling the other. She gritted her teeth, arched her back, attempting to free herself from the hold.

The sensation was enough to momentarily rob him of his composure. Never one to miss an opportunity, her legs rapidly caught about his waist. She made no attempt to wrest herself free of his half embrace.

Really shouldn't have let had those drinks…

"Need something, _lieutenant_?"

She growled, giving his ear a warning nip, "Nothing at all, _commander_."

"Oh?" He made to pull back, amused when she made a disgruntled noise, digging her heels hard in the back of his thighs to halt his movement. He snickered against her neck, "I think you're lying to me, Wash."

"You know I'd never lie to you, sir..." It was a familiar conversation, usually spoken behind closed doors, in urgent tones. The last time she'd said those very words he'd ended up flat on his back, suffering a wicked concussion. She'd saved him but damn if it hadn't hurt…

Turn about was fair play, wasn't it? She let out a sharp hiss, clutching him to her more tightly as he thrust forward, "That so?"

"Do you always talk so damn much?"

He ignored her, chuckling.

"I need another drink…" He sighed, brushing a finger over the plane of her cheek, intrigued by the catch of her breath. His ever so stoic lieutenant let out a pleased humming sound, the hand splayed across his lower back sliding under his shirt, up and down, tracing the contours of a scar that travelled the length of his spine. "Can't believe I'm saying this but…" A ghost of his lips across her clavicle, another pleased little moan, "Draw up another bath, Wash."

She pulled back, confused.

"Sir?"

"Now, I'm going to let you up, lieutenant, and you're going to play nice." The woman tightened her hold on him, not all amused by the notion. As if to spite him, she thrust her hips forward, her ankles digging, pushing him forward. An almost juvenile grinding, the water combined with fabric on skin creating a delicious sort of friction.

He couldn't help his answering groan, leaning more heavily into her. It took every ounce of his control, every bit of his military training to clamp down on the sensation. Taking hold of her shoulders, he flashed her as charming a smile as he could manage, "For Christ's sake, woman. I'll never get clean with you."

Wash smirked, "No, sir."

"Draw up another bath."

Evidently, she'd chosen to uphold the earlier proffered truce, allowing him to push himself up on his elbows. Half of him braced for an attack, for her to knock his knees out from under him, sending him tumbling back into the mucky water. She'd chosen to play nice for the time being, lying there placidly till he'd managed to get to his feet.

They stood, dripping grayish water, hardly clean. He could still feel the grit of dirt against his skin, beneath his shirt, but it served as a dramatic improvement over the caked dirt they'd previously been coping with. Wash was the first out of the tub, plucking a waiting towel from the rack near the door. She tossed him another one.

When he made to exit, she held up a warning hand, the other held flat against his chest.

"With all due respect, sir, I can't have you dragging mud all over my house."

"What are you saying, Wash?"

The wicked curve of her lips, the over exaggerated shift of her hips, all said she was enjoying their trading of authority far too much, "Strip."

He'd have to do it anyway, if he ever wanted to get clean. And, save for the towel now wrapped around her torso, Wash had spent the better part of their encounter nude. It was simply the challenge in her eye, the strength there, the amusement.

Taylor wasn't a man of science, not really, not truly. He hardly bought into some of their theories. That sex and hostility were inextricably linked. If such a link did exist however, he imagined it would appear personified by his lieutenant, by the omnipresent steel in her posture, the fire in her eyes, her defiance; sex, Wash, and rage, one hell of a cocktail.

He grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head, never breaking eye contact.

She arched a brow, her hand on her hip.

Still focused entirely on her, that wondrous amber gaze, he moved to his belt. It brought him no small amount of pleasure that she shifted, for whatever reason, as he undid his trousers.

She cleared her throat, but did not turn away.

Hell, if it wasn't uncomfortable, just being stared at. He tossed his ruined clothes aside, wrapping the towel quickly around his waist, stepping out to join her. Wash simply smiled, moving forward to press her palms flat against his stomach, mapping the muscle under her hand. There was something undeniably charming in her demeanor, the strong, elegant creature looking up at him from beneath lowered lashes and a wave of damp hair. He raised a hand, brushed the offending lock out of her eyes, gently tucking it behind her ear.

He dipped his head, offering her a delicate kiss, a far cry from the frenzied ones they'd shared only moments earlier. One of her hands slid around his back, reaching up to toy with the damp hair at his neck. She'd relaxed, leaning more heavily into him.

The hand resting on her hip dipped ominously lower, and he bent at the knees. Wash groaned, permitting him to gather her to him.

Not her best decision.

Still a bit bitter from her earlier stunt, Taylor hooked an arm beneath her knees, carrying her bridal style…

And dropped her rather unceremoniously back into the tub.

Leaving her splashing in the muddy water, he made his way back to her living area, calling out over his shoulder, "Run the damn bath, Wash."


	3. Chapter 3

**Sky: I do believe some of our reviewers left us a cheery "SMUT HO!" last chapter, did they not, Inu? I'm pretty sure this will satiate all their sexy BAMF time needs. As always, twas a pleasure working with you. **

**Inu: Yes Sky, yes they did bring us a cheery demand for BAMF sex. To which we have complied and granted thee. Thanks for reading everyone! And of course, it was a great pleasure, no pun intended, working with you too. I'm sure we'll come up with more fun stuff to write together in the near future. **

He'd managed to pour himself another drink and make himself comfortable on her couch before she emerged to fetch him. From the looks of things she'd taken a minute to clean herself up, the dirt from before noticeably lacking, only her hair remaining in that particularly dishevelled state. A part of him of didn't doubt that she'd kept it that way on purpose, the tangles and rises, how it fell in just the perfect way across her eyes and shoulders, to remind those looking of what precisely had caused it to be so. Of fingers buried in it, using it as a hold during searing kisses. Of fisting a hand in that dark mass, using it to crane her head back, exposing the column of her throat…

He shook his head, attempting to clear the all too vivid images assaulting his senses. In her home, after being so close, he _felt _her on his skin, the particular scent, an amalgamation of tropical flowers and _her,_ still maddeningly surrounding him.

Taylor sipped his beverage, rolling the amber liquid about in the glass. More alcohol was _not _going to improve matters any, but it soothed him.

"The bath is ready, sir." A part of him couldn't help but smile at her choice of words. It was not her bath or his bath, but _the_ bath. An impartial terminology, giving neither of them a leg up on the other…

Now there was an interesting image…

God damn it all, what the hell was happening to him? He closed his eyes, attempting to clear it from his mind (because he couldn't look at her when such thoughts were playing havoc with his consciousness. If he did, he held no doubts they'd never make it back to the bath). Only, in the darkness there he found the images even more…colourful. How her lips parted, her desperate moans, her nails raking across his back…

The composed commander took an unsteady breath, offering her a smile, "Coming, Wash." Something flashed in her eyes, an answering longing, that said she'd seen preciously where his thoughts had drifted. More than that, it said she was not in the least offended. Intrigued, perhaps, but not offended.

He followed a safe distance behind her, arriving to find her waiting for him. If anything the second bath was even more exaggeratedly feminine. It's flowery scent, the water thick with an impressive amount of bubbles, and positively…pink. How in god's name she got a hold of something like that in Terra Nova he had no idea (and wasn't entirely certain he wanted to know). She did not step in, making an absent gesture to the water, "After you."

And if he wanted to be clean he'd damn well do it. It was only the memory of the ruptured pipes back at his own home, and the prospect of another encounter with his lieutenant that steeled him enough to do so. He tossed her his towel (and pretended not to notice the ever so subtle tilt of her head, or the pleased quirk of her lips) as he lowered himself down into the infernal thing. It left him pink to midway up his chest, the absurd little things tickling at his skin. The water itself was vastly different. The first time it had been comfortably warm, becoming tepid later. It was scalding now.

She waited patiently for him to settle, drumming her fingers absently on her hip. "Come on in, lieutenant. The water's…" he frowned, shrugging, "fine." Though it was really too hot be fine. It was only the wicked glimmer in her eye that stopped him from voicing his displeasure. It said she had very little interest in running a third bath for them, and this one was damn well going to count.

Wash tossed her own towel aside, not bothering to check where it fell, offering him a shameless view of her before she joined him. Occasionally, when covered with mud or when she fell more heavily into her role as solider rather than friend, it was easy to forget how miserably attractive she was. Her own musculature so terribly different from his own, elegant and lithe and sinewy, lending her an almost ethereal grace, pleasingly formed and soft looking in contrast to himself. She didn't blush under his gaze, simply squared her shoulders, her head held high and proud, like some warrior queen or nymph.

He scowled at the flowery image. Too much pink, all around him, was making him soft.

She settled herself on his lap, a reversal of their earlier positions. It was no longer a play for power, her eyes warning him not to fight her on this. The woman plucked a waiting cloth from the rim of the tub, dipping it in the water. His eyes widened when she began the process of cleaning him, brushing the wetted fabric across the smears of dirt marring his skin.

And therein lay an explanation for her actions. She assumed a dominant position atop him to justify the presumed subservience of tending to him. She'd taken pains to place them on equal footing again.

He allowed it, and that pleased her.

And he had to admit that it was a pleasant experience. She used the towel briefly, cleaning the majority of the dirt before transitioning into a more personal method. Her right hand swiped aside any offending mud, her left followed along behind it, tracing feather light patterns, cool against his heated skin and hair. There was something oddly fascinating about simply watching her go about her task. It's a simple one, requiring little attention, but her face adopted a look of absolute concentration. It bore similarities to the expression she wore when she stitched him up, or when she was addressing a particularly hard headed recruit. It was devotion and an absolute absorption in her work, and an underlying fascination that's so foreign on her face it can't help but be intoxicating.

"Lean forward, sir," and while she addressed him with respect, it accompanied a command. Equal footing. Taylor did so, moving forward as she did. Her arms moved around to his back, bringing their torso's flush against each other. Here, she simply discarded the towel. Her fingers dipped lower, alternately stroking and scratching along the length of his spine. Occasionally it was both at once, her left hand tearing while her right attempted to mend. A groan escaped him, muffled by her hair. She chuckled, dipping her head to press a kiss to his neck just below his ear, tongue flicking out to trace the shell, replaced by the gentle grazing of teeth a moment later.

When he tried to shift them into a more comfortable position (more truthfully, when he tried to shift the balance of power) she rolled her hips in warning, a hiss of breath against his cheek. He bit down on her shoulder (harder than called for really, and it earned him another thrust), unwilling to admit to the effect she'd had on him.

Wash leaned back, an amused sort of look curving her lips before crashing into him. It was not entirely like it was before (there something less frantic, less aggressive about it) as she hummed against his mouth. Her tongue traced his teeth before settling on engaging his own, replacing aggression with languid, almost teasingly slow, strokes. It has him clutching her to him (and she let out a pleased little moan, not unakin to the one he'd heard in his mind earlier, when his hand settled on her ass); it had her hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging.

She rocked against him again, unintentionally, and she let out a positively breathy sound. Perhaps a curse, perhaps a blessing, but it pulled her away from the kiss long enough to permit him explore her. His free hand occupied itself with a breast, his thumb tracing lazy patterns around the nipple. She had a scar just below her left ribs ( a permanent reminder of her brush with death in Somalia) and he brushed a finger across it with a reverence entirely foreign to either of them.

His lips were more concerned with her throat, alternately kissing and sucking in rhythm with the pattern of her fingers on his shoulder. She arched against him, obligingly exposing her neck. She was willing to allow him this authority over her, a desire to touch and be touched overwhelming their latent struggle for control. When he dipped his head, his mouth mimicking the pattern her fingers had left from memory, she tightened around him.

He'd never heard his lieutenant's voice break in such a manner. In fact, the idea that the woman, so composed, so stoic, so in control, could even adopt such a pitch was ludicrous. Wash's voice adopted a tone nothing short of _pleading_, breathy and desperate into his hair. It takes one word for her to break his carefully schooled control.

"_Nathaniel_…"

With a shuddering breath, he left her neck and dove for her mouth. Immediately his tongue delved into her hot cavern. He moaned from the sensation of her tongue rubbing against his in languid motions, slowing down his frantic need of her. The hand that rested on Wash's backside squeezed for a moment, emitting a breathy noise of surprise from his lieutenant, before he slid it up into her hair; tangling his hand in her dark, damp tresses.

He had a firm grip on her hair, prohibiting her from escaping his grasp. His other hand pressed to her middle and pushed, forcefully making her move despite her sounds of protest. Without moving his lips away from hers, he had her against the side of the bathtub, straddling her lap with his weight. With the tub being barely big enough to fit one person, it was exceedingly cramped with the both of them together. On the other hand, it allowed Taylor to pin her back to the side of it; using the other side of the tub as leverage for his feet in keeping her there, flush against his body.

Her hard nipples pressed into his chest, creating the most delicious sensation when his chest rubbed against them in a struggle to hold her still. With his free hand clenching and unclenching from his growing need beside her head, he tore his lips away from hers, giving them a chance to breathe. Completely in the throes of passion, Alicia's eyes rolled in the back of her head when both his hands slid over her body to her breasts. His mouth watered when his hands cupped them fully. A perfect fit.

He grunted, pleased by this. He made to dip his head low, but the hand on his chest stopped him. His heated gaze lifted to meet warm amber in silent question. She leaned into him, her cheek deliberately grazing his as her lips came sinfully close to his ear. He felt her hot breath on his flesh as she uttered one husky word, "Bedroom," into his ear.

Without wasting time, he hauled them both to their feet. Wash pulled the plug to let the water out before stepping out. She wrapped a towel around her body and left her bathroom with a dripping Commander hot on her heels. Alicia made to reach for her door before she was pulled by her waist flat against the front of Nathaniel's body. With her back to him, he couldn't see her eyes flutter momentarily.

A hand on her waist and another on her hip, he forced her feet apart with one of his legs. Using the hand on her hip, he delved further down and listened to her breath coming out in fast shudders as she waited in anticipation for what she knew he was going after. When his fingers parted the towel, she put a hand on the wall and exhaled, preparing herself for the pleasure she was sure to receive.

Finally reaching his destination, Nathaniel used his middle finger to slowly, yet firmly, slide down over her clitoris. His finger came back up, only to slide down once again. Wash dug her nails into her wall, her mouth opening in silent pleasure as he did it again and again and again. Her other hand rested on the arm sliding ever so slowly with his finger.

Alicia was _this _close to bucking her hips to get more sensation from his ministrations when he delved his wonderful finger into her heated core. His breath caught in his throat and it was him that arched his neck. She was so _wet_.

"Jesus, Wash," he breathed out and after a moment, slid his finger out. He slid it back in her firmly until his knuckle reached her opening. Her broken moan enticed one of his own to escape the confines of his throat.

Alicia wanted to turn around and take his lips, his arms, his toned abdomen…hell, _anything _into her mouth. She wanted- no, _needed_- to find purchase with her mouth, somehow keep it occupied. Otherwise she would emit sounds from that she found too embarrassing to let Nathaniel hear. One sound, however, forced its way out when the Commander curled his finger inside her, finding her special spot.

"Yes…" she breathed, bucking her hips, unable to keep herself from standing still. She felt his growl of approval rumble through his chest, spurring on her own animalistic sounds.

His finger moved faster, pressing more insistently against her clit as he invaded her inner walls most deliciously. Taylor's breathing came out laboured, his own arousal spiking at how responsive she was to him. He took his finger from her completely, earning him a hiss of disapproval. Turning her around, he reached behind her and opened her bedroom door.

Walking her backwards, he ripped the towel from her body and pounced when the backs of her knees hit the edge of her bed. Air rushed out of her in a huff as he landed on her but she recovered quickly enough to hook a leg over his hip and bring him in closer to her.

His mouth found and latched onto one of her nipples, causing her to arch into him, a small hum escaping her throat. Taking a moment to calm down, Taylor sucked harder as he lowered his hips, preparing to enter her.

Alicia brought her free leg up over his hip to join the other, granting him a much smoother entrance. A hand landed on his shoulder while the other took hold of his head to keep him where he was. The moment he moved, she held her breath. When the tip of him greeted her slick folds, she couldn't help but release it in a high pitched whoosh. And finally, when he slid inside her to the hilt, her eyes rolled and a long, low moan escaped her lips.

Taylor's mouth freed her nipple at the sensation of her tight walls wrapping firmly around him. His face was red from the strain of trying to control himself. When he looked down at the woman underneath him, all hopes of restraint vanished.

She was a vixen to the core. It was what he decided when his eyes landed on her and in response, a positively wicked look passed over her features. She licked her lips and slowly tightened her walls around him.

_Oh _but if the sensation wasn't delightful.

In answering revenge, he pulled out of her, took hold of her hip with one hand and braced himself with the other. He plunged back in, hard and fast, her breasts bouncing from the force of it. Her eyes rolled and when he pulled out slowly and repeated the action, a husky moan came out of her.

"Faster…" she breathed; half pleading, half demanding. He ignored her, enjoying this revenge far too much to comply just yet. She felt the pressure build and build inside her at a slow, steady pace but it wasn't enough. She wanted more. Bucking her hips, she tried enticing him to go faster but his control was steeled down. Instead, he moved them further onto her bed with a thrust of his hips. The force of it elicited a moan from her lips.

He squeezed her hip in silent warning to keep with the pace he was setting. Slowly, as the tension in him built, he went a little faster. Alicia hummed in satisfaction and let her hands roam over his body. With certain scars and muscles that she traced, his breath would come out in a shudder and his look of concentration would intensify.

Rolling his hips on his way back in took Alicia by surprise. Before she could stop herself, her back arched and a cry of pleasure lifted from the depths of her voice box. The sound alone was enough to make Nathanial go crazy. Accompanied by the feel of her, well, it was just too much. His military control snapped.

Grabbing a leg, he forced it over his shoulder to get a deeper angle. "_Oh… god…!_" Alicia couldn't help it. This man was able to force noises out of her at the command of his hips. If she wasn't so passion filled, she might have been embarrassed by it. Instead, she moved her hips with his.

Her walls clenched and unclenched of their own accord as her end neared. Taylor felt it, sped up his pace and trailed a hand to her clit. Obviously he wasn't far behind her.

When his thumb moved expertly over her sensitive nub, she tossed her head back and dug her nails into his shoulders; trying to find purchase.

One…two…three strokes of his thumb combined with the feel of him inside her had Alicia undulating her hips against him. "Nathaniel!" she cried out as her climax slammed into her, taking her to new heights. For that moment, nothing else mattered but the feeling of utter and total completion.

Nathaniel wasn't far behind her, especially after she cried out his name. Taking his hand away from her clitoris, he braced both on either side of her and thrust with a force that jarred her bed from the wall. He tensed, every muscle in his body preparing for the mind numbing climax that was about to shatter him.

"_Commander_…" Taylor's eyes widened, "Nathaniel…!" Alicia's eyes rolled in the back of her head. It was too much. There was something so _sexy _and _completing _about her calling out his military title followed by his name. He threw his head back and spilled everything he had into her. She milked him for all he was worth, earning a moan. He thrust into her until it became an effort with his tired muscles coming down from his high.

He pulled out of her and lay down beside her. They both breathed heavily, neither of them saying a word for a long moment.

"I think," Taylor started. "I could go again." The look he earned from Alicia had him chuckling. "Did I exhaust you too much, _Alicia_?" he deliberately drawled out her name in the huskiest manner he knew.

This had her narrowing her eyes at him at his challenge. She climbed on top of him. "Not a chance, _Commander,_" she returned the favour with a seductive voice of her own. The Commander smirked and therein started another bout of passion.

"Are you sure we can just walk in?" Jim Shannon asked Mark Reynolds. The two had been searching for the Commander for a little less than a half hour. They came to the conclusion that if anyone were to know where the Commander was, it would be Alicia.

"Yeah, it's no problem. I walk in all the time," said Mark, talking long strides into the lieutenant's home. It was when Jim put a firm hand on the young soldier's shoulder that he stopped in his tracks. Looking at his girl friend's father, he frowned when he saw a disturbed look pass over his features.

"I have an idea as to where they both are," he started. "If you value your innocent eyes, I suggest; one, you stop walking in whenever you want and two, we look no further for either of them."

It took Mark a moment to clue in. Until he heard a breathy moan emit from down the hall. Horrified, Mark's head shot to her closed door and back to Jim. Instantly, Mark was out of the house with a bemused Jim Shannon in tow. "Right then…what do you think would happen if we made kissy faces at them at their next shift?" he asked the younger man.

Mark didn't think it was funny at all and by the glare he gave Jim, he conveyed just that.

"No? Bad idea, huh? Ah well, guess we'll just keep this between you and me then, soldier."

"…Right," he replied and stopped when Jim put an arm around his shoulder.

"Just so we're clear, if I ever find you and my Maddy in this situation…let's just say I won't be turning in the other direction," he threatened. When he received a nod, his expression instantly lightened. "Great, let's get something to eat, I'm starving."


End file.
